A Road Less Travelled
by Danicakate
Summary: It was a Saturday when it all became too much for Molly Weasley to hold in any longer. In light of Molly's breakdown, Hermione steps in the fill the gap and keep the Weasley family afloat.
1. Too Much

**Hello. Fancy seeing you here!**

**This is a story I've been planning for a number of years, and with the help of my darling sister and editor Cheezels, I've finally started to write it. Actually, this is the story before the story I wanted to write, the one that makes the story I want to write make sense. Confused? Me too.**

**I am not giving a series of disclaimers. This is a fan fiction website, and this is fan fiction. If I owned the characters I write about, it would neither be fan fiction, nor would it be here. I do not feel the need to continually remind you of this.**

**Please let me know what you think – constructive criticism is very much appreciated. Insults are not. If you don't like something, feel free to tell me, but please give me some reasoning. "Your story sucks and you suck at writing" is neither kind nor helpful. Tell me what sucks, and I'll grow to become a less sucky writer. :)**

**We start three weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts.**

Chapter One – Too Much

It was a Saturday when it all became too much for Molly Weasley to hold in any longer. The years of living in constant fear, the deaths of close friends, a _year_ of not knowing where Ron was, Ginny at Hogwarts under the reign of those Death Eaters, George who had yet to leave his old room, and _Fred_…

Really, it was surprising that she'd managed to hold on as she had. Now, however, she broke down. The cast-iron walls of her control began to shudder, and ripped apart with a scream of tortured metal. The flood of emotion swamps her, wave after wave crashing down. Never pausing long enough for her to catch her breath. Never pausing long enough to find something to hold onto. No lift raft, nothing to cling to. Wave after wave, swamping all her feeble attempts at control.

Finally, it becomes too much to bear, and the only thing Molly can do is withdraw; hide herself within herself. Shut down.

It was Ron who found her. She was sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the wall, with tears slowly drying on her cheeks.

'Mum?'

Responding took energy she wasn't sure she could find.

'Mum? What's wrong?'

She wanted to reassure him, but she couldn't seem to find the controls. Ron shook her shoulder gently.

'Mum, you're starting to worry me. Mum?'

She was trying, she really was. But she just couldn't make it work, her mouth, her body, and it all too such an effort. She didn't want to worry him, she really didn't, but she couldn't seem to do anything about it.

'Ron? What's the matter?'

There was someone new, a voice that should have been familiar. She couldn't seem to care long enough to identify it… That alone should have worried her, but worry seemed beyond her grasp. Any emotion did, really.

'It's Mum. She's just... sitting here, shaking. She won't talk to me Hermione. She won't even look at me.'

Hermione. Ginny's friend. Ron's girlfriend. Hermione…

She was trying to hold on to her thoughts, but they just kept slipping through her fingers, dancing just beyond her grasp.

A cloud of bushy brown hair obscured her vision.

'Molly,' a gentle voice prompted. 'Molly, can you look at me, please?'

She tried, she really did, but it just wasn't working. Gentle hands took hers. Molly noticed that they were warm, so different from her own. She was cold; she was always cold, ever since… Walls clamped down on the thought, and Molly withdrew further. Not going there, it hurts. She had to protect herself from the pain, or it would overwhelm her again.

'Molly, we're going to take you upstairs to bed, alright? You have a nice lie down, and I'll look after everything.'

Gentle hands were helping her to stand, and then her youngest son was there, helping her up the stairs. As she hesitated, he reassured her.

'Don't worry, Mum. Hermione's going to finish dinner for you. You just have a rest.'

As she allowed herself to be tucked into bed, Molly almost wondered at her lack of protest. She never let anyone take over her kitchen. Her kitchen was her kingdom. She wondered why it didn't worry her more.

She was distracted from her vague thoughts by quiet voices just outside her door.

'What's wrong with her? Why isn't she… doing anything? Hermione, what's wrong with my Mum?'

'I think things have just… caught up with her, Ron. She's got a lot on her plate. Losing Fred, almost losing Ginny, not knowing where half of us were for the last year. Really, I'm amazed she hasn't broken down before now…'

As the voices faded, Molly relaxed. Someone, at least, had an inkling of how she was feeling, and wasn't going to push.

She started with dinner. With Molly Weasley out of commission, someone had to feed the ravenous Weasley tribe, and she'd volunteered.

It was impossible to describe the variety of expressions present that night. Hermione walked out of the kitchen, a trail of dishes following her to the table. Soups, a stew, casserole, and freshly baked bread, made the Muggle way.

'Hermione?' Ginny's tone left room for a whole world of answers.

'It's fine,' she reassured everyone. 'Molly's not feeling herself, so she's gone to bed. I'm just making sure you're all getting fed.'

She ended with a smile, and she could feel the whole table relax.

'She's really alright?' Arthur Weasley asked, still concerned for his absent wife.

'She's fine,' she repeated with a smile. 'Things became a bit much for her, I think. She's sleeping now, but I'm sure she won't mind if you check on her.'

There was movement around the table as everyone started to stand. Years of war meant that everyone was still on edge. The fear of losing someone else still burrowed in their hearts.

'_Not_ everyone. She needs rest. I'm sure she'll be up and about in no time, as long as she's not constantly bombarded with questions!' Hermione's tone softened. 'Look, I know you're worried about her; I am too. But give her some time. She only started feeling off this afternoon.'

Everyone settled back into their chairs again. 'Now, soup, anyone?'

The meal had gone well, though Hermione did notice a few hesitations around the room before people began eating. She assumed they were all still worried about Molly. After all, Ron couldn't still be holding a food grudge from the Horcrux Hunt, surely.

Once dinner was finished she gathered the dishes and set them to scrubbing. It was times like these that she loved magic. The pile of dishes left over from a Weasley dinner would have taken her _hours_ by hand.

'Is there pudding, Hermione?' Ron's voice rang through the open door. Hermione jumped at the sudden loud noise. Honestly there was no need to shout.

There was a quiet grunt and a not so quiet 'Hey!'

'Honestly Ronald, stop badgering the girl. She's done an amazing job managing to feed the lot of you, and now you're asking her about-'

Ginny's admonishments were cut off by Hermione's entrance. 'Is coconut ice cream alright with everyone?'

There was a slightly stunned silence, which was broken by Bill. 'I think I'm in love.'

Percy elbowed him. 'I wouldn't say that too loudly if I was you. Fleur's sitting right here.'

Bill turned to his brother. 'Fleur doesn't come bearing coconut ice cream. No offence, love.'

Fleur smiled. 'None taken. Ze way to a Weasley man's 'art is through 'is stomach.'

Bill grinned. 'Never was a truer word spoken.'

The table laughed, and any tension was dispelled. Hermione held up the scoop. 'Ice cream?'

Hermione pushed open the door silently and peered into the darkened room beyond. Molly lay on the bed, just as she and Ron had left her.

'Molly?'

There was no response, though Hermione thought she saw Molly's eyes flicker briefly to the door.

'I'm just going home now, but I'll be back in the morning to see how you are. You rest up and I'll see you tomorrow.'

Again, she was greeted with silence, so she shut the door just as quietly as she'd opened it, and headed back downstairs, making her goodbyes as she passed various Weasleys and adopted Weasleys. She ran into Bill and Fleur at the fireplace.

'Heading off?' Bill asked.

'Yeah. I'll be back in the morning to see how she is. You two off home?'

'Fleur's eager for it to just be us two again. Not that having you all stay wasn't great, and you're welcome to come again anytime, but…'

'We loved 'aving you, but ze war is over now, and I want to go 'ome. We all need time to… recover, I theenk.'

'I completely understand. I'd like to curl up in bed and sleep for a couple of days. No more worry, no more stress. There's a lot to do…'

'But it can wait. You go home, Hermione. You look like you haven't slept properly in months.'

'Thereabouts. Night Bill, Fleur.'

'Goodnight, 'Ermione.'

When Hermione arrived back at the Burrow early the next morning, she was greeted with silence. It was not a comforting sound. The kitchen was deserted, the table was bare. She tiptoed upstairs, and passed closed bedrooms doors, faint snores coming from behind more than a few. She glanced at her watch. If they didn't hurry, they were going to be late for work, every single one of them.

'Right, Weasleys!' she called, banging on doors as she walked past. 'Breakfast's in ten minutes! If you're not there, you miss out, and if you don't get moving, you're all going to be late for work! Up!'

''Ermione? Wa'tch yellin' for?' Ron's tousled head stuck out from a door on her left.

'Look at the time, Ronald.'

'Eh?' There was a pause as the head was withdrawn. 'Bloody hell! Harry, get up, we're late! The store's meant to open in half an hour!'

There was a thump, and an exclamation of pain. Hermione smiled as she headed back downstairs. Boys.

Ten minutes later, the table was crowded with Weasleys hurriedly eating pancakes. Hermione hid a snicker as she watched the usually immaculate Percy try to eat with one hand and comb his hair with the other. The mighty Percy Weasley, brought down by a comb. Smiling, she took it from his hand and fixed the unruly hair herself. 'There you go. Chop-chop, you're all going to be late.'

With many quick goodbyes and many thanks for the breakfast, the table emptied as fast as it had filled. The crowd moved towards the fireplace with much jostling and muttered complaints. Hermione was vividly reminded of Hogwarts breakfasts. Soon, only she and Ginny were left.

'Ginny, what does your Mum usually do for George? I haven't seen him since, well…'

There was a pause, broken by Ginny taking a deep breath and pasting a smile on her face. 'Mum usually takes a plate up to him. He doesn't come out at all, so far as we can tell, and she didn't want him to starve.'

Hermione grimaced. 'What about last night? I didn't even think, I was so busy… he was probably starving.'

'Don't worry. I took some soup up for him after dinner. The bowl's probably waiting for us now. I kept telling Mum we shouldn't encourage him to stay in his room, but she didn't want to make it hard on him. Hermione, it's been nearly two weeks since anyone's seen him. He went in there straight after Fred's funeral, and he hasn't come out since. We're all really worried.'

'Let's see what we can do. We should probably check on your Mum first, though.'

Ginny nodded, and they headed up together. Opening Molly's bedroom door quietly, they walked in.

Molly was where Hermione and Ron had left her the day before, though someone had tucked her in.

'Dad and I changed her last night. She didn't say anything, didn't do anything. She just lay there, looking straight through us. It was like she couldn't see us, like she wasn't seeing anything. Dad won't say anything, but he's really worried about her. Losing Fred hurt him; losing Mum would kill him.'

Hermione walked over to the bed, and put held Molly's hand in her own. It was clammy. Molly didn't look at her, just kept staring at the wall behind her.

'Molly, are you feeling any better? Is there something I can get you?'

There was no response, not that Hermione expected any. Seeing Molly like this, she thought it would be rather a while before she was up and about, and even longer before she was back to some semblance of her sunny, welcoming self. Until then, Hermione wanted to make things as easy as possible for her second mother to recover. Molly had opened her heart and home to the Muggleborn witch time and time again, and this was the least Hermione could do to repay her overwhelming kindness.

'I might bring some tea up later,' Hermione said, smiling brightly, though she was crying inside. 'Ginny and I are going to take George his breakfast now, so we'll come back later.'

With a final squeeze of the older woman's hand, Hermione walked back to the door, where Ginny was waiting.

'D'you think –'

Hermione cut Ginny off with a finger to her lips, and nodded towards the door they'd just exited. She walked down the hall a little way before speaking. 'Just because she's not responding doesn't mean that she can't hear us. I'm fairly certain she's having a nervous breakdown. My mum had one when I was seven, right after her brother died. She didn't get out of bed for a week, and didn't talk to anything for nearly a month. She still doesn't like talking about it.'

Ginny had gone pale. 'What can we do?'

Hermione smiled. 'What you're doing. Love her, support her, and take away the worry. Don't force her to do anything – yet. It may come to that stage, but she'll work things through by herself. She's been under a lot of stress for a long time, Gin. She's exhausted. She needs time to recover.'

Ginny was silent for a moment, then nodded. 'Let's feed George, shall we?'

Hermione let out a sad-sounding chuckle. 'You make him sound like an exhibit in the zoo.'

Ginny gave a wry smile. 'At least you _see_ the animals at the zoo.'

The sign read 'Gred and Forge – Pranksters Extraordinaire'. Hermione knocked.

'George, its Hermione.'

She didn't expect an answer, and she didn't get one.

'Your mum's not well, so I'm looking after the kitchen for a while.'

More silence. She looked at Ginny, who shrugged.

'Ginny tells me she usually brings your food up to you?'

She was beginning to wonder if he was even awake. However, she doubted anyone could have slept through the circus that was the Weasley family getting ready this morning.

'I understand how hard this must be for you, but it's not healthy to stay in there all by yourself.'

She wasn't sure what reaction she was expecting, but whatever it was she didn't get it. She got nothing.

'It's been a fortnight since the funeral, George. You need a change of scenery. So I'm not bringing your food up anymore.'

She braced for an explosion. Still more silence.

'I'll leave a plate for you on the kitchen table. You don't have to sit down and eat with us. You don't have to see anyone if you don't want to. But if you want to eat, you'll have to come down. She really hoped she wasn't laying down an ultimatum to a sleeping body.

'I'm not trying to spite you. I can't imagine the pain you're in. But you have to keep living. We can't lose both of you.'

Was it her imagination, or had the silence grown icier? She glanced over at Ginny. Tears streamed down the girl's face.

'We miss you, George.'

It was barely more than a whisper. She wrapped her arm around Ginny's shoulders and led the sobbing girl to the kitchen. She needed a cup of tea.

It had taken a while for Ginny to run through her tears. Everything poured out onto Hermione's sympathetic, and slightly damp, shoulder.

Seeing her mother laid low had shaken Ginny to her core. Molly Weasley was the foundation that the Weasley clan had built their lives on. She was an impenetrable fortress, standing firm as the waves of life beat themselves to death on her ramparts.

Now, she was a castle under siege, walls torn down and the gates were breached.

Their foundation had shifted. Fred's death had torn Ginny's heart in two. Her mother's breakdown was turning her world upside down.

Hermione wouldn't be surprised if she had a few more teapot meltdowns.

Once Ginny's tears had run their course, Hermione took the opportunity to look around the house. Breakfast dishes littered the kitchen. Dust covered the shelves on the walls. Soot stained the rug next to the fireplace. Gnomes ran amok in the garden. Washing baskets were overflowing with dirty laundry.

It was a far cry from the Burrow's glory days. Survival had been more of a priority then housework during the war time.

Hermione took a deep breath and took an apron off the hook.

'Right. Let's get cleaning.'

That's how Hermione found herself running the Burrow. Once the two girls had the kitchen and sitting room gleaming (as much as carpet and mismatched lounges can gleam), they'd taken lunch up to Molly and left a sandwich on the kitchen table for George. While she was supervising the scrubbing brushes in the hall (an idea she'd got from her favourite Disney movie), Hermione felt a tug on the wards she'd put around it.

'I said you were going to have to come down, George Weasley. I will not be defeated by a simple Summoning Charm.'

There was no reply. Hermione waited. He still wasn't coming down. She felt another tug on her wards. She grinned and called up the stairs.

'It's leviOsa. Honestly, you're as bad as Ronald.'

'That's cold, Hermione. _Nobody's_ as bad as Ron.' Ginny grinned as she poked fun at her absent brother.


	2. A Breakthrough and a Half

**Hello again,**

**Thank you to everyone who's following and especially to those who have reviewed; I may have blushed reading them. You are all lovely people.**

**This chapter is a lot smaller than the last one. That's because the plan was to break Chapter One into two or three smaller chapters, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. So this is the size you ought to be expecting.**

**I'm not sure how often I'll be updating. My sister Cheezels and I bounce ideas off each other, so she helps me with a chapter of this, and then I help her with a chapter of her story Real Life Sucks. You should go check it out. She has big plans for it.**

Chapter Two – A Breakthrough and a Half

She'd been running the Burrow for a week, and George was still coming up with new ways to try and get past her. He'd started simple, using Summoning Charms with various distractions. About halfway through, he'd realised it wasn't going to work, and had started trying in earnest.

First it was a boomerang-like product that had been very popular in the shop. Hermione had seen it coming down the hall and shut the door just in time. She'd sent it back with a note informing him that it was a nice try, but it wasn't going to work.

Then it was a garden gnome. He'd managed to get one from the garden and, using a variety of spells, had managed to get it all the way down the stairs and into the kitchen. It was just his bad luck that Hermione was brewing a pot of tea at the time. The gnome found itself a very long way from the Burrow, and George was once again thwarted.

His next attempt had been very clever. She almost didn't notice it… until it ran into her in the hallway.

"George Weasley, what do you have to say for yourself?" She called up to his room, not expecting a reply.

"Nothing!" he surprised her by yelling back. She snorted.

"So this plate just grew legs and walked all this way _by itself_, did it?" She asked sarcastically.

There was a pause. "Ginny did it!"

"Not bloody likely!" Ginny poked her head in from the kitchen. "But that's pretty good, feel like teaching that spell to me?"

The most recent had involved Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, a Muggle remote-controlled car and a fishing rod. Hermione had humoured him by placing a single half sandwich on the hook, along with a note that said "Very creative. What's next?"

She'd thought asking him to come down for dinner was a bit much, and was taking that up for him. Really, she was impressed he was attempting to get lunch at all.

After that disastrous first morning, she'd moved into the Burrow on a temporarily permanent basis, and was staying in Charlie's old room. She hadn't seen Bill and Fleur since that first night, but they had been instructed to come to Sunday dinner. As a family, the Weasley's had decided that even though Fred was gone, the world needed to be cheered up, and had re-opened Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes two days after Fred's funeral. Hermione had taken lunch across to Harry, Ron and Lee Jordan several times, and it always made her smile to see the crowds flocking to the famous joke shop. They'd keep it running until George felt up to taking the reins again.

She'd just gotten back from one such lunch delivery when she found Ginny, sitting at the kitchen table and staring into a cup of tea.

'Penny for your thoughts?' Hermione asked quietly.

'They're worth a darn sight more than that, I hope,' Ginny replied with a half-smile.

'A penny's all I've got on me. I don't even have a Knut,' Hermione said. 'I should have gone to Gringotts while I was is Diagon Alley.'

'We can go tomorrow if you like,' Ginny seemed slightly cheered by the prospect. 'I've got some things I want to get from the Apothecary. And I was thinking about getting an owl of my own. Errol's really old, and Pigwidgeon is, well…'

'He's Pigwidgeon,' Hermione agreed.

'Yeah. It'd be nice to have a pet of my own. I never had one. Ron got Scabbers, well, Peter, and no one else had a pet to hand down.'

'Diagon Alley it is then,' Hermione said cheerfully. 'Though I assume that isn't what you were thinking about. Do you want to talk?'

'It seems kind of silly, and really selfish since Fred died and we've only just had his funeral and all, but... when we were in the final battle at Hogwarts, with all the Death Eaters, and the spells flying everywhere, and not knowing if you were going to live for more than a minute at a time, it was like we were really living, and… there was this moment of peace right in the middle of it all, where I turned around and I saw Harry, and he turned and looked at me and… and he proposed.'

Hermione gasped. 'Ginny! Merlin, that's so exciting. Why haven't you said anything about this before?'

Ginny sighed. 'Because it was all sort of heat-of-the-moment type of thing, and then Fred died, and I was so heartbroken. And Harry hasn't mentioned it since.'

It all made sense. 'And you're worried he just asked you because you both thought you were going to die, and since you didn't…'

'What if he didn't mean it?' Ginny wailed. 'I mean, I waited for him for so long, and then he left to go find the Horcruxes, and when he finally got back… but he hasn't said anything, and I'm scared that he didn't mean it, and I feel guilty because my brother died and I should be sad, and I am, I'm devastated, and then there's Mum, but I'm also worried about Harry, and about me and about what this means for us and I feel like I shouldn't be thinking about any of that because I should be focussing on Fred and on Mum, but I can't stop thinking about it, even when I try, and I feel bad for not feeling worse, but I can't, and that makes me feel worse, and I must be a bad person for not being more upset that my brother died and, and…'

She broke into sobs and quickly became incoherent. Hermione rushed around the table and pulled her into a hug. 'It's okay Ginny. Breathe. Come on, now, deep breaths. In… and out. In… and out. In…'

Once Ginny had stopped hyperventilating and the sobs had slowly turned into hiccups, Hermione drew back a little, still rubbing soothing circles on Ginny's back. 'How have you been sleeping, Ginny?'

'I haven't,' she hiccupped. 'I can't sleep, everything keeps running through my head, round and round in circles, and I can't stop it and I can't sleep…' This brought on a fresh wave of sobs. Hermione silently cursed herself for not seeing just how close Ginny was to utter exhaustion.

'You're not a horrible person, Ginny, you're human. We know how much losing Fred hurt you, but we move on. It hurts a lot now, but it hurts a little less than it did a week ago, yes? And a little less than when we buried him,' she felt the nod on her shoulder. 'We can't live in continuous pain, Ginny. Slowly, we heal. And other things start to come back. You can't keep clinging to the hurt that Fred's death caused, and it's alright to be worried and upset about Harry.

'That was a big thing for you. You've been waiting for him for so long, and then you had to give him up. And now with all that uncertainty… you're allowed to hurt and confused and upset. It doesn't take away from how much you love Fred, and it doesn't take away from how much you love Harry. But have you thought of this from Harry's point of view?

'He asked you to marry him, and a couple of hours later, your brother was killed. Maybe he's worried that Fred's death has changed how you feel. You know Harry, he's got a martyr streak a mile wide. He's probably worried you blame him for Fred's death, because Voldemort was after him.

'Ginny, you just lost your brother. You needed, and still need, time to grieve and time to heal. Did you think that maybe Harry thinks the best way to help you with that is to take a step back and let you be with your family? He's a boy; he has no idea that withdrawing was just going to make things harder for you. I bet that given time, he'll come back, closer than ever. If you reach out to him, he'll be there in a heartbeat. You didn't see him while we were hunting Horcruxes, Ginny. Leaving you was one of the hardest things he ever did, and he's not going to let you go for anything. He might not propose again soon, to give you the time he thinks you need, but if you ask him, he'll be there for you no matter what.'

Ginny raised her head slowly and looked Hermione in the eye. 'You think so?' she asked in a tiny voice.

'I know so,' Hermione replied firmly. 'Now let's get you to bed. I've got a Dreamless Sleeping Draught somewhere, and you're going to get the rest you so obviously need. Come on.'

Grabbing the potion, she led the exhausted girl up the stairs and tucked her into bed. 'Sleep well, Ginny. Everything will look better when you wake up, I promise.' She kissed her forehead like she would for a small child and left the room quietly. Oh the messes we create for ourselves. She needed a cup of tea.

**Let me know what you think. And remember, **_**Real Life Sucks**_** by Cheezels. It's worth it.**

**D**


	3. A Lesson in Family History

**Hello again.**

**This isn't the chapter I had planned. It's happening a lot. It sort of… wrote itself. So here is the chapter I didn't intend to write. I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think – reviews help us grow as writers.**

**Also, check out Real Life Sucks by Cheezels.**

Chapter 3 – A Lesson in Family History

Harry seemed slightly surprised when Hermione pulled him aside.

"Harry," Hermione began kindly. "You're not a girl."

Harry looked confused. "Thank you?"

"So it's entirely possible you don't realise what an _idiot_ you're being." He opened his mouth to protest, but she talked over him. "I know you think you're being kind to Ginny by giving her space, but the poor girl is an emotional wreck. You can't just propose in the middle of a battle and then say nothing for a month."

Harry opened his mouth again. Hermione ignored it. "Yes, I know her brother just died. No, she doesn't blame you. Yes, she still wants to marry you. No, it wasn't a spur-of-the-moment, change your mind later thing. Yes, she's upset with you for not mentioning it again. No, not upset enough to say no. Yes, you actually have to propose again, and by the way, I would recommend doing it with an actual ring this time. No, she's not going to make you beg, but I think it's traditional for you be down on one knee anyway."

Harry looked slightly shell-shocked. Hermione thought for a second. "Did you actually get down on one knee the first time?"

Harry shook his head mutely.

"Ah. There's your problem. Honestly, if you want it to stick…" Harry just blinked at her. She rolled her eyes. "Honestly. People these days. No sense of humour. I love Ginny. She's like a sister to me. She _is_ a sister to Ron. I would expect four big brother speeches coming your way. Five, if George manages to get out of his room in time." She thought for a moment. "Is there anything I've missed?"

Harry looked at her for a moment. "Hermione, you're a girl right?"

"Yes," she said in a tone of voice that said 'just where the hell do you think you're going with this?'

"So… you know what girls like," he trailed off, as if expecting her to understand.

"I'm good, Harry, but I'm not a mind-reader. I walked out of Divination, remember?"

"Well… I just… Idon'thavearingyetsoIwashopingyoucouldhelpmefindon e." Harry blurted out.

"Gesundheit?" Hermione smiled kindly at him.

"I don't have a ring yet, so I was hoping you could help me find one," he said more slowly.

"I would love to," Hermione beamed, giving him a hug. "You didn't have any plans for today, did you?"

"Well…" Harry gestured outside, where the Weasleys were preparing for a game of Quidditch.

"I didn't think so," Hermione pulled out a mobile phone. "Just let me make some calls."

… **A Road Less Travelled …**

Harry was beginning to doubt the brilliance of the plan. They'd been to three shops so far, and Hermione had insisted on looking at _everything_. Even worse, he'd yet to see anything he thought Ginny might like.

All the shop assistants were so eager and expectant, and he really hated to disappoint them, but none of their rings worked.

They'd started off in Diagon Alley, but just as Hermione had assured him, there was nothing there. Oh, there were pretty bracelets and necklaces, but none of their rings even came close to what he wanted for Ginny.

That was the other problem. He had no idea what he wanted Ginny, other than the fact that he'd know it when he saw it.

Hermione had assured him he needed to get back to his roots, and had taken him to Muggle London. He'd been looking at his roots for the past four hours, and was having just as much success as he'd had in Wizarding London.

She was saying it again. "You just need to get back to your roots, Harry. I'm sure you'll find the perfect ring when you get back to your roots."

"I'm at my roots, and it's working about as well as looking at my leaves did," he grumbled as she pushed open the door to the next shop.

"Hello," Hermione smiled at the shop assistant. "We're looking for an engagement ring."

The girl was really excited. "Oh, that's so sweet. How long have you been dating? How did you get together? Was it really romantic? I bet it was, you two make such a cute couple. When's the big day?"

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance. "Actually, she's not my girlfriend," he broke into the girl's gushing. She blinked.

"Actually, I'm the best friend," Hermione smiled apologetically. "I'm here to make sure he doesn't get anything… gaudy." She turned to Harry. "Is 'gaudy' the word I'm looking for?"

"I think that's the word you used," he replied evenly.

The girl turned pink. "Oh, I'm so sorry! Well, congratulations anyway," she smiled awkwardly at Harry. "Did you have anything in mind?"

Twenty minutes later, Harry heaved a sigh of relief as they stepped out of the shop. They were still empty-handed, but at least they were out.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Hermione said, rubbing her temples. "I really thought it would help going back to your roots."

Harry interrupted her. "No, it's okay. Besides, I've got an idea."

He steered them into a side alley and grabbed Hermione's hand before Disapparating.

They reappeared in Diagon Alley, on the steps of Gringotts. Hermione turned to him.

"But Harry, we've already looked here!"

"Not here we haven't," Harry said, walking inside. Speechless, she followed him up to one of the counters. The goblin peered distrustfully at them.

"I'd like to access Vault 1173," Harry said firmly.

"Key?" The goblin asked.

Harry shrugged. "It's with the vault manager." He rummaged through his pockets and withdrew a slightly crumpled envelope, which he presented to the goblin. The goblin opened it and produced a very thick wad of papers. "Last page," Harry supplied helpfully. With a glare, the goblin turned to the last page. Whatever he saw there apparently convinced him.

"Very well. Follow me," the goblin commanded, leading them through the building to a small counter tucked into the corner.

The goblin behind it looked up at the intrusion. He was handed the envelope without a word.

"Vault 1173? That's a very old vault. Who wants to get inside?"

"That would be me," Harry said. The goblin glanced at him.

"Wand?" Harry pulled it out of his pocket and watched as it was placed onto a strange set of scales. A few seconds later there was a 'ding' and a small slip of paper slid out of nowhere. The goblin peered at it.

"Very well, Mr Potter. Just a moment." The goblin turned and disappeared down a corridor lined with tiny wooden drawers.

Harry caught sight of Hermione's bewildered expression. "It's the Potter family vault," he explained. "I only found out about it a few days ago."

"But you came of age a year ago," Hermione protested confused.

"Well, we were on the run all last year. Apparently they've been trying to contact me since Bill and Fleur's wedding, but I fell off the grid." He grinned at her. She sighed.

"Funny."

Harry's explanation was cut short by the arrival of the goblin, holding a small tarnished key. "There are a few… formalities we must follow, Mr Potter. Not that anyone doubts your identity, but we are legally required…"

Harry nodded and shrugged.

Ten minutes later he was soaking wet, and his hand ached as he followed the goblin back to where Hermione was waiting. She burst out laughing at the sight of him.

"What happened to you?" she asked between giggles. "The waterfall of 'Oh-my-gosh-I'm-no-longer-Bellatrix'?"

He nodded. "The waterfall of 'Oh-my-gosh-you're-no-longer-Bellatrix.' And a whole lot of signing."

"So," Hermione began as they followed the goblin to one of the carts. "The Potter family vault? I thought _your_ vault was the Potter vault?"

Harry shrugged. "Turns out the one I've been using is just a trust vault my parents set up. So there's my vault, my parents' vault and the vault of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter."

"Pretentious, much?"

"What can I say?" Harry grinned. "We're old money."

The vault of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter was a very long way underground, so it was a rather long time later that the cart stopped. Harry took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. Hermione watched, amused.

"You alright?"

"I feel like I'm… I dunno, about to face my grandparents." He whirled to her, suddenly terrified. "What if they've got portraits in there? What if I actually to face my grandparents?"

She laughed. "You faced Voldemort on your own, but you're scared of your grandparents?"

He shrugged uncomfortably. "Well I've never met them before, have I? What if they don't like me?"

"You'd never met Voldemort before, and he definitely didn't like you," she laughed.

"You're not helping, Hermione!"

"Harry, it doesn't matter if they like you or not. They're oil and canvas. Your real grandparents died years ago. Besides, there's nothing they can do about it. You're the heir to the Most Noble and Pretentious House of Potter."

He seemed to consider that for a second. "Fair point. I hadn't actually thought of that." After all, Mrs Black's portrait screamed and Sirius still inherited the house.

The goblin handed Harry the key and he opened the door to the vault.

The room was vast. Off to the left were mounds of glittering Galleons, piled to the ceiling. To the right was a maze of beautiful old furniture.

"Harry," Hermione half-whispered after a second. "When you said 'old money'…"

"I didn't expect this either, Hermione," Harry said weakly.

The goblin cleared his throat, bringing them both back to earth. "We'd better start looking," Harry said, walking further into the vault. Hermione walked after him, running her hands over the carved furniture. She had soon lost sight of Harry, who was moving more quickly than she was. The goblin stayed near the door, keeping an eye on both of them.

Hermione turned a corner and gasped. There were bookshelves overflowing with books. She ran her fingers over their spines. These were worth a fortune; there were hundreds of original manuscripts and first edition books. She was itching to pick them up and read them. The goblin chuckled.

"Mrs Potter enjoyed reading too," he remarked.

"Which one?" Hermione asked curiously.

He thought for a moment. "Most of them, I believe."

Harry's head poked back around the corner. "Go, enjoy the books," he said, in a kind yet slightly patronizing way.

Hermione couldn't quite muster the glare she thought the comment deserved.

A few minutes later, Harry's voice sounded again from even further in. "How many dining tables did we need? I've seen at least four already…"

"The quantity of tables does not indicate the amount used during every generation. Several have been in the vault for over three hundred years. New furniture was bought every few generations as a tradition, I believe," the goblin explained. "The carved oak table was deposited by your great-great-great grandfather in his youth, and he purchased a new one, which was in turn deposited by his son."

Harry retraced his steps. Hermione was practically drooling over an original _Hogwarts: A History_, which despite being several hundred years old, looked to be in much better shape than her copy.

"You can keep that if you'd like," he offered. Hermione was speechless. He grinned as she opened her mouth and a slight gurgle came out. "Yes, I know it's very old. No, I don't mind you keeping it. Yes, I really mean that. No, I'll actually never read it. Yes, I know it's worth a lot. No, my children can get their own copies. Hermione, just take it."

Her mouth opened again to protest, but her hands were already holding the book close and stroking its spine. He turned to the goblin. "Have you been managing this vault very long?" he asked. The goblin thought for a moment.

"I took over as vault manager as your great-great-great-great grandfather became Heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter," he answered.

"So a while then," Harry said with a smile.

The goblin grinned back. "Yes."

"Would you know how this vault is organised? Not that it looks very organised, but…"

"Your father had no particular interest in the organisation of the vault once your grandparents' possessions were deposited. Is there something I can help you find, Mr Potter?"

"I don't know if they'd be in here, but if they were, where would I find old wedding and engagement rings?" Harry asked.

"Oh, _Harry!_" Hermione whispered. "That's perfect."

"Over here, sir," the goblin led them past a familiar-looking tapestry to a very old wardrobe. "I regret that it isn't a complete collection, as some Mrs Potters opted to be buried with their wedding rings, but those we do have will be in here." The wardrobe looked like it hadn't been opened in twenty years, and the hinges creaked as Harry pulled on the doors.

There, on the various shelves, covered by years of dust, sat rows of velvet boxes. Harry and Hermione began to open boxes, exclaiming over their contents.

"Oh, Harry, look at this one. It's stunning."

"Hermione, isn't this gorgeous?"

They must have gone through a dozen boxes before Harry flipped one open and froze. "Hermione," he said in a hoarse whisper. "This is it."

Hermione looked over his shoulder. "That's the one," she agreed quietly. It was a fairly simple ring, but elegant in its simplicity. A row of tiny diamonds sparkled through years of dust. "It's perfect."

Harry closed the wardrobe and they moved towards the front of the vault. "Did you find what you were looking for?" the goblin asked. Harry showed him the ring. "Ah. That, Mr Potter, was your grandmother's ring."

**Please take a minute or two to review – let me know if you liked it or not and why. Thanks!**

**D**

**Also, Real Life Sucks by Cheezels**


	4. In Which a Can of Worms is Opened

**Hello everyone! Sorry I've been such a slacker. I've been partway through writing this chapter for a while now, but as some of you will know, NaNoWriMo starts on Friday, and I've madly been preparing (having decided a fortnight ago to participate, and only finding an actual plot three days ago… yikes!).**

**For those of you who don't know, NaNoWriMo is National Novel Writing Month (which is actually international, but whatever), and the idea is to write a 50 000+ word novel during the month of November.**

**I'll do my best to update this story during that time, but honestly, I can't make any promises!**

**Thank you to everyone who reviews – your support is much appreciated. To those who favourite or followed – your trust is heart-warming. To my silent stalkers, who read without leaving any evidence of their presence (except on my Traffic Stats), thank you for taking the time. I hope you enjoy. Feel free to drop a line.**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter 4 – In Which a Can of Worms is Opened…

Hermione sat at the kitchen table with her book and a cup of tea, patiently waiting for the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder to dissipate.

As far as attempts went, this seemed very early days for George (he'd tried something similar when his garden gnome scheme failed), but this one had almost caught her by surprise. She'd been investigating a noise (she was now sure it had been a Decoy Detonator) when she'd seen a cloud of the powder floating down the hallway towards her. She'd quickly cast a Shield Charm around herself and the table, and sat down to enjoy her book.

There was a thud as something collided with the charm.

"Ow."

"… George?"

There was a pause. "No?"

"If you're not George, then who are you?"

There was another pause. "Voldemort?"

Hermione smiled. "Oh, well if you're Voldemort, I'm afraid I'm obliged to kill you. Gryffindor and all that."

"Bollocks. Ahh… Dumbledore."

"Professor! It's so good to hear your voice again. That fake memorial service we had for you with the body and everything was very touching. How does it feel to be alive again?"

"_Merlin_, umm…"

"Merlin! Such a pleasure to meet you, sir. I was under the impression that you were incredibly old. So old, in fact, that the common term is _dead_."

There was a moment of silence, broken by a slightly hesitant voice. "Hey, Herm– I mean, strange person I've never met before, if, hypothetically, there _was_ a person here named George, which there isn't, this being a hypothetical question, what would you do?"

Hermione hid a smile, despite the darkness surrounding her. It was nice that George was engaging in conversation, even if it were a hypothetical one.

"Well, hypothetically, if this hypothetical George had come down to the hypothetical kitchen to hypothetically steal his lunch, I would remind this George that, hypothetically, I'd told him that all he hypothetically needed to do to get said lunch was to leave his hypothetical room to come and get it. So hypothetical George didn't need to come up with such an elaborate hypothetical plan."

There was the sound of the door closing. Hermione checked the table. The soup was gone. He'd distracted her while he worked on her shield. That guy was _good_.

She picked up her cup to take a sip of tea. It was empty. _Damn that boy._

– A Road Less Travelled –

She'd almost finished her second cup of tea when there came a loud squeal from somewhere upstairs.

Deciding that it was a happy noise, Hermione decided to ignore it, and continued reading. The kitchen was clean, dinner was in the oven, and she felt she deserved a break.

Her break was broken when her vision was obscured by red hair and the wind was knocked out of her in the form of the tightest hug she'd ever been given.

"Ginny… breathing… necessary…" she gasped.

"HeproposedandItalkedtoyouandyoutalkedtohimandheac tuallyproposedandIsaidyesandyoutalkedtohimandyou'r ethebestestfriendeverandthisisthebestdayofmylifean dIloveyousomuchHermioneandheproposed!"

Hermione waited for her brain to catch up with her ears, and for Ginny to catch her breath. She wasn't sure she'd heard anyone talk that long and fast without taking a breath before. Honestly, between the two of them, the newly-formed Potter family would talk nonstop without breath at the first hint of excitement or nervousness.

"Harry proposed?" Hermione asked. Ginny nodded, seemingly too full of emotion to speak.

"And you said yes?" Another nod.

"Oh, _Ginny_."

Ginny nodded again, and flung herself at Hermione, who hugged her back with equal force.

"I am so happy for the both of you! This is so exciting! Congratulations!"

Hermione looked over Ginny's shoulder to see Harry leaning against the doorframe, grinning.

"Thank you," he mouthed.

"You're welcome," she responded in kind.

– A Road Less Travelled –

With a clatter that belied the tip-toed silence of the previous month, Ginny rushed up the stairs to her mother's room, followed at a more sedate pace by Harry and Hermione.

"Do you think we should… I don't know… calm her down a little?" Harry asked Hermione. "You know, convince her to break the news gently?"

"Harry," Hermione said patronisingly. "You only get engaged once. I don't think Voldemort himself could stop Ginny bursting into her mother's room right now. But you're welcome to try." She grinned wickedly. "I promise to convince Ginny to use the counter-curse to her Bat-Bogey Hex. Eventually."

They peered around the doorframe. Ginny had flung herself down next to her mother. "Hey mum, you'll never guess what's happened! He proposed and I'm engaged and we're going to get married! And you have to get better quick cause I want a huge engagement party and we have so much to organise! I mean, there's the dress to begin with, and you know we've been planning that since I was little so I couldn't possibly pick a dress without you. And I don't really want to get married in the backyard like Bill and Fleur so we have to find a venue, and you know I'm rubbish at picking dates, so I need you to help with that too. And then there are the flowers, and the colour scheme, and the bridesmaids dresses and- oh! And the wedding cake! I couldn't possibly have anyone else make it!"

"Does my opinion count in any of this?" Harry broke in with a grin.

Ginny turned to him, a sparkle in her eye. "Of _course_ it does, Harry." There was a pause. "Right after Mum's and Hermione's and Fleur's and Great Aunty Muriel's."

"Great Aunty Muriel's?" Harry asked in disbelief. "But I'm the _groom!_"

"And she's the one with the tiara!"

"You haven't seen his vault," Hermione cut in with a sly grin. "I think I may have seen one in there…"

"Or two," Harry mused.

"A trunk full," Hermione tapped her chin.

"A hundred years' worth." Harry and Hermione turned to each other and nodded, then turned back to Ginny.

"I think we can find you something, Ginny," Hermione grinned.

Ginny sighed in relief. "Oh good. I really wasn't looking forward to sucking up to the old bat. Mustard coloured lace has no place in my wedding."

There was a small sound from behind her. Molly was still staring at the ceiling, but there was a small smile on her face.

Ginny's eyes started welling up again. She gave her mother a huge hug. "See? You're not allowed to miss out on my wedding. So you have to get better soon."

She took a deep breath, and Harry and Hermione slipped quietly out the door as she began musing on all the meanings of the different flowers. This would do far more for Molly than all the rest in the world.

– A Road Less Travelled –

Harry had rushed off to the shop straight after that, but Hermione made plans to have a little chat with him after dinner. Harry had looked nervous.

After her reading time had been interrupted, Hermione found it hard to get back into it, and had eventually given up for the afternoon. Instead, she began to look through the three cookbooks on the kitchen shelf for what had to be the 173rd time. She'd made everything in them at least twice now. Surely a witch of Molly's years would have accumulated more than three cookbooks in her life? She couldn't keep the hundreds of recipes she churned out in her head alone, could she?

Intrigued, Hermione wandered off to the lounge room to examine the bookcase there. What she found was a higgledy-piggledy mish-mash of every genre available. Cookbooks, gardening books, DIY books, Hogwarts textbooks, more than a few Muggle 'For Dummies' books… it was as if every single Weasley had put something down in the lounge room and it had migrated to the shelves, never to be picked up again. Naturally, this offended her bibliophilic tendencies.

She thought for a moment, then went off into the sitting room to look at the bookshelves there. The only difference was the amount of Ginny's romance books and a number of scorch marks that had obviously come from Fred and George's experiments.

She rolled up her sleeves and pulled out her wand. This insult could not be borne without some kind of retaliation.

– A Road Less Travelled –

Mr Weasley bade his colleagues goodnight and tossed the Floo powder into the flames. He emerged from the Burrow fireplace and found himself knee-deep in stacks of books. As he watched, books floated in through the doorway and sorted themselves neatly onto different stacks.

Bewildered, he picked his way through the books until he was standing in the lounge room, where there was a rather similar state of affairs.

"Hello?" He called tentatively, almost afraid that the books might respond.

"In the kitchen," came the response.

Hermione was sitting at the table, grinning happily at the piles of cookbooks floating in through doors and windows. "Oh, hello Mr Weasley! Just doing a bit of spring cleaning."

Mr Weasley stared at the books floating in through the window. They must have been in his shed… Really, it was a good thing Molly wasn't there. She'd hex him for sure.

He watched his notepad sail past his nose. He could just make out his scribbling as it soared into the living room. _Function of a duck?_

"We're… we're cleaning up the books are we?" He asked weakly.

"Yes." Hermione grinned again. "There was a bit of a racket earlier… I didn't realise you had so many books in your shed, or I would've unlocked the door. I'll ask Harry to mend the window when he gets back. Which reminds me- would you like Harry to help you organise your shed?"

Mr Weasley could feel his face light up. That would be _wonderful_.

– A Road Less Travelled –

There were exclamations of surprise as the rest of the Weasleys found their way from the lounge room to the kitchen, ranging from pleasant delight – Percy – to swearing as they were hit by flying books – Ron. These were soon stifled by the sound of the Weasley men eating, although there was still the occasional noise as a cookbook flew over the table.

The relative silence was broken by a thoughtful Ginny. "Hey Dad… not that I don't love Hermione, I do, really… but since she's probably going to be sticking around for a while-" Ginny ducked as _Bewitched Baking_ almost clobbered her, then continued. "-shouldn't we get her a room of her own?"

"I'm sorry, Ginny, I didn't realise I was crowding you… I can stay in that tent we used last year…" Hermione suppressed a tiny shudder. She'd spend enough time in that tent to last her the rest of her life.

Ginny snorted. "Heck, no. But if you're going to be here for a while, then-"

"Charlie's room is empty," Mr Weasley mused. "I don't know why it's empty. Don't know why it's still his room, actually. But we'll just move his things up to the attic, and you can stay in there."

Hermione instantly felt bad, and tried to protest. She was, however, quickly cut down by numerous Weasleys, both male and female. Grudgingly, Hermione agreed to write to Charlie and ask for permission to steal his room from him and leave him with nowhere to stay should he ever return to England.

Ginny laughed at this assessment of events. "It's got more bookshelves than my room anyway. You'll love it there. Besides, Charlie won't mind. He hasn't lived there in eight years."

"Is there any dessert?" Ron asked around a mouthful of food, then quickly defended himself from Ginny's well-aimed punch.

"About that…" Hermione said casually. "Do any of these actually work?" She held up one of Lockhart's books.

There was a chorus of confused 'no's and 'not really's. "Well… Mum makes us use them all the time," Ron piped up helpfully.

"Yes, but do they actually work?" Hermione asked.

"No, not really."

Ginny snorted. "Honestly? They're terrible. He was an _idiot_. Come on – throwing gnomes out of the garden and expecting them not to turn around and waltz back in?"

"Okay. Would anyone be too gutted if they _accidentally_ spontaneously combusted? All at the same time? In, say, an hour? Outside, in the fire pit? With fireworks and hot cocoa? While we all stood around, tragically unable to do anything?"

"Well, Mum used to like them… then the bastard almost killed Ginny… no, don't think anyone would mind."

Harry stood up and made his way carefully to Hermione, peering at her and checking her forehead with the back of his hand. "Are you feeling alright, Hermione?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Fine. Why?"

"You just mentioned _books_, burning while we all watched."

Hermione shrugged. "Well, most of them are falling apart. I may have _helped_ some of them fall apart – and by help I mean… well, never mind."

"Bonfire sounds fun," Percy said, surprising them all. Everyone looked at him. "What? The man was a git."

– A Road Less Travelled –

While Mr Weasley and Bill (who, along with Fleur had been invited over for the bonfire… and announcement) were helping the books to spontaneously combust, Hermione pulled Harry into the house.

"Harry," she began.

"Hermione," Harry replied. "You know, I'm feeling the oddest sense of déjà vu."

"Funny," she shot back. "So you proposed."

"Yes," he grinned. "What gave it away?"

"Which logically means that somewhere in the near-ish future, you're going to have a wife to support. Which means you need a _real_ job," Hermione pointed out.

Harry's grin grew smug. "Did you not see my family's vault?"

Hermione's grew smugger. "You don't get to be a socialite. We've already established you're not a girl."

"A fact for which I am immensely grateful."

"May I enquire as to whether or not the Heir to the Noble and Most Pretentious House of Potter has plans for his future, milord?"

"Peasants do not make demands of the upper classes! Off with your head!"

"I'm sorry Harry, but you need a red dress to make that line work. Shall I fetch you one?"

Their banter was interrupted by hesitant voice from the door. "Is everything alright in here? Hermione, blink twice if you're being held against your will."

Harry and Hermione both blinked twice at Percy. "Right," he said weakly. "What do I do now?"

Hermione smiled slightly at his discomfort. "Did you need something, Percy?"

"I was just coming to let you know that the fire's burning nicely, and the others were wondering if the books could spontaneously combust soon."

"Give us ten minutes?"

"Oh, and Percy," Harry broke in, "can you let Ron know that the hour has come, and ask him to join us?"

"Sure," Percy said slowly, backing out the door. "You're sure you're alright in here?" He asked again, not sure to whom he was addressing the question.

"We're fine," Hermione smiled.

A few minutes later, Ron stumbled through the door, looking confused. "Hey Harry. What do you mean, the hour has come? It's only half past."

"Hermione's asking about the future," Harry said wryly.

Understanding dawned on Ron's face. "Oh," he said. "_That_ hour."

"I thought you might want to break the news together," Harry said.

"Seems like a sound enough plan," Ron agreed. "We've jumped in with both feet on worse."

"As amusing as this all is," Hermione interrupted, "does someone want to let me in on the joke?"

"Well," began Ron.

"You see," Harry started. They looked at each other and laughed. Ron gestured for Harry to continue.

"We've talked to Kingsley about it, and he'd like for us to join the Aurors. They're so short, and we've 'done so much' that they're willing to let us join even without our NEWTs."

"We've been talking about it for years, and then we got this offer, so we've decided that it's probably the way to go."

"It's not like we've never faced danger before."

"And we've had more experience tracking things down –"

"– and fighting the Dark Arts –"

"– then most of their applicants who've passed their NEWTs with flying colours."

"So we start training in a month."

"We were going to tell everyone, but without Mum here to yell at us and worry about the dangers we'll be facing, well…"

"It wouldn't feel the same."

"But we were going to tell you all eventually."

"With enough time to find someone else to help out at the shop."

Hermione smiled at the pleading expressions on their faces. "You're both grown boys," she said. "I don't know why you're looking at me for permission."

"Because we always need you to approve our plans. That's how we know they're mostly idiot-proof," Harry replied with a smirk. Ron elbowed him.

"And with Mum not well, who else is going to yell and fret? You're the next best thing!" Ron added, his grin nearly splitting his face.

"Honestly," Hermione sighted. "_Boys_."

With that sorted, the three headed back out to the fire.

"About time," Bill called as Fleur handed them each a hot cocoa. "Nice to see everyone's still got their heads," he added, throwing a grin at Percy, who grinned back.

"It was a close thing," Harry began.

"But we managed to talk Harry down." Hermione finished. Now, let's see to Lockhart's trash, shall we?"

– A Road Less Travelled –

**So there you have it! Just under 3 000 words to tide you over until next time. Let me know what you think. Till next time, my literary friends!**


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